


The Blessings of The Fae

by Cody_Thomas



Series: Blessings of the Fae [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo is So Done, Don't piss off the hobbits, Fae & Fairies, Hobbit curses are Serious Business, Hobbits to the rescue!, I promise happy endings!, M/M, Plant Magic, This is my 'Happy Birthday Hobbit Style' gift, Thorin Oakenshield cannot follow simple instructions, as usual, but with gardening, fairy magic, gardens are life, herbal magic, hobbit healing factor, hobbits are practically brownies, hobbits make no logical sense to the rest of the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cody_Thomas/pseuds/Cody_Thomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbits have Fae blood in their veins. It isn't common knowledge to others, and nothing really to make comment on in the Shire, since everyone there already knows, so what is there really to say about it? Only those who were very close to the Shire usually came to learn of the fact, and most of those who did, well they never did quite know what that <i>meant</i>, not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't piss off the Hobbit, or, Hobbit curses are serious business

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is one of my birthday presents to everyone. I am 33 today. I have no idea what to do with that. I may or may not post more than one story today. We shall see what happens before I have to go to work.

Hobbits have Fae blood in their veins. It isn't common knowledge to others, and nothing really to make comment on in the Shire, since everyone there already knows, so what is there really to say about it? Only those who were very close to the Shire usually came to learn of the fact, and most of those who did, well they never did quite know what that _meant_ , not really.

Of course, there's the usual beliefs that they could magic their plants to grow better and healthier than any other place could manage, which was just ridiculous. Gardening was hard work regardless, even though their soil was blessedly fertile, hobbits just had a better knack of it and understanding of how to work with it than most, because they had researched the matter most thoroughly since the very founding of the Shire.

Gardening and farming was an art form, and what magic towards greenery they might possess, well if it did help things along, it was no more potent for one hobbit than it was for any other, so what did it matter? Where the magic in their blood was quite a bit more potent though was in keeping the Shire hidden from outsiders, and confusing unseemly folks from stopping or lingering or finding it in the first place. (Which poor Thorin Oakenshield would fall victim to at one point due to his surly attitude while trying to make it to a dinner party.) But where it truly flourished was with blessings, charms, and healing.

No hobbit worth their cooking didn't know how to place a good health charm on the soup, or a friendship blessing on a cup of tea, or charm the winter coats to not wear out, or the quilts to be just a bit more comforting and warm. Contrariwise, gossip was an extremely potent if mild form of a hobbit curse, since a truly malevolent hobbit curse could last for decades or longer, and the retaliation for such a thing towards another hobbit would not be worth it in the long run.

Hobbits could also heal just about anything except old age, which is why they were such a healthy and long lived people. Hobbits only ever died from hunger, old age, or getting themselves killed on adventures, which is why many chose to stay quite close to home, and looked down on others who decided not to. If a hobbit could not heal themselves, whether from an injury or else wise, they could either be put into the earth to heal, or if they were too weak for that, another perfectly healthy hobbit could give them part of their life force instead so the sick hobbit could recover, and they would rest in the earth for awhile in their place.

This was common practice in the Shire, every family had a patch of fresh tilled earth in their back garden for those who needed it, but such a practice was entirely unknown outside of the Shire, and not even Gandalf was aware of it. Therefore when Bilbo is whisked away from the Shire by Gandalf onto a whirlwind adventure, (though not without a few of last years acorns from his tree in his pocket, even if it did mean he forgot his handkerchief) it doesn't occur to him at first to notice that Dwarves have no idea about any of it.

After the third day Bilbo begins helping with the food, adding energy charms and healthful blessings, and the winter rationing charms to make things stretch as far as possible because otherwise he doesn't see how they are going to all make it there without starving to death on only two meals a day. He stitches protection charms into the patches of every dwarves' clothing as he mends it, his great contribution to the group, since he's the only one without a hobby that can be readily done on horseback like most of the others have. As it continues he also embroiders warmth and comfort charms on their hems as the weather turns inclement.

Of course the dwarves have no idea about any of it. Not the wood drying charm that lets them start a good fire even though it had rained for six days straight and everything else was waterlogged by that point. Not the blessings of peace, friendship, and family to keep tempers down and fighting to a minimum, though he actually was pushed to the point of casting a temperance spell on Thorin the first time he really yelled at Bilbo, and the dwarf never raised his voice to the hobbit again no matter how angry he became. They didn't even know about the prosperity spell Bilbo did that led them to finding the troll hoard when their supplies were running low, (even though it meant having to deal with said trolls first.) Bilbo had nearly forgotten that using any of the more powerful charms or spells always required something as payment in exchange in order to work properly, and after that debacle he never forgot again.

In Rivendell he made a house blessing charm for Lord Elrond as a gift for his gracious hospitality, which was accepted with a bow of gratitude the dwarves just couldn't understand. Lord Elrond was one of the few people in the world who did know what receiving such a thing from a hobbit meant. They had stayed in Rivendell for two weeks, meaning they were there for Midsummer, the strongest night of the year for the fair folk, and Bilbo disappeared from the company that day a bit before dusk, to a meadow under the open sky he had picked out that was filled with clover, or rather that Lord Elrond had mentioned notably in passing, and Bilbo could take a hint.

It was going to be a merry little affair, with his tambourine and pan pipes. He made a large circle of lilac, rose, violet, and primrose petals, he wove foxgloves, heather, and wild thyme in his hair, and his nine wood bonfire burned merrily. He had a feast set up of cream, honey, barley and oat cakes, nuts, mushrooms, sweet summer fruits, an assortment of fresh herbs and edible flowers, as many desserts as he could manage, and several bottles of elvish wine that he had added crushed elderberries to, and all of the appropriate herbs of course. He spied a few curious elves passing relatively nearby who had never seen the Faye rites before, but none dared to draw anywhere near or disturb him, not on this night.

A handsome young man, perhaps in his early or almost twenties, was curious enough to draw closer though, a small harp in his hands. The fae always could enchant Men, especially tonight, and someone had been wise enough to give the youth a mask wreathed in ivy to wear and weave him a crown of rowan along with primrose and thyme. Bilbo grinned and held out a hand to him, and pulled the young man into his circle when he accepted. Together they ate and drank, sang and danced and told stories to the moon. At one point he sees the boy's future in the flames and his heart aches, longing to protect the innocence and light inside the fair youth forever. He hears them then, the Sidhe, calling the youth to come away with them, where he'd be safe and cherished forever, never age, never die, and know nothing but peace, plenty, and happiness forever.

_Come away O Human Child, to the woods and waters wild! With a faery, hand in hand, for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand..._

It was a gentle, haunting melody that drew you closer. Back in the Shire the ones who had left last midsummer for whatever reason would be returning tonight, most either pregnant, with a new infant, or having sown wild oats, but for a human to accept, well, they almost never returned. Perhaps the boy heard, perhaps he was tempted, either way it must be his own choice. This is where hobbits came from after all, a mix of fae and human and other hobbits that had returned from visiting their kin under the hills. Regardless, Bilbo could not resist offering the mug of elderberry wine he had been drinking from to the youth, who accepted and drank deeply. Now, whatever his choice, he'd never have a hard time spotting a hobbit or finding the Shire if he needed to. Near midnight the youth kissed him in his drunken merriment, but Bilbo at least kept his wits about him enough to not accept more.

“It is your choice, to go or stay, the Seelie would care for you always, but if you decline you must be gone from the circle before dawn human child, and then wear your crown and mask for a whole day and night, and wear a bit of iron, else you may never return. For tomorrow the Unseelie ride and they do not ask before taking what pleases them and has been kissed by our magic. Without the mask and wreath's protection hiding you from ill intent, and the iron protecting you from their touch, they will think you wish to go, or steal you anyway.” Bilbo warned him, and curled up on the soft ground to sleep not long afterwards.

When he woke, the lad was gone, one way or another, and Bilbo spent the day basking in the sun and enjoying the living earth. The Company found him before noon, and were quite puzzled as to why he'd obviously had a party and not invited them. He asked if he would have been welcome at the most sacred yearly rite of the dwarves without understanding anything of what it meant to be there or what to do or not to do beforehand, and they went wide eyed in understanding and made no more mention of it.

Once they left the Last Homely House, Bilbo knew it was the protection charms and the blessings to find safe paths he had done every night, and especially on midsummer, that kept them all alive through the thunder battle, and let them find the goblin traps, even if they then had to escape from the goblins, and in Bilbo's case Gollum. Regardless, it happened in such a way that it took two weeks off of their journey by going through the mountain instead of over it. In the resulting dim light he built a simple shrine to Yavanna on the riverbank with loose stones in thanks, for keeping his feet firmly on the ground, his wits about him, and for keeping them alive another day.

He didn't know if it was the protection charms, pure dumb luck, or both, that kept them alive through the orcs, and his near suicidal attempt to save Thorin's life. Though it was the first time in his life that Bilbo had Cursed anything besides the squash bugs in his garden that one time ten years ago, and they had never dared return. But now he cursed the orcs with every ounce of rage and determination a hobbit could muster, which was quite a lot indeed. It was a Curse for the ages, born out of the protective fury of one whose own have been grievously threatened and harmed, one who if he was dying, he was without doubt taking every last thing that had caused it down with him, and their descendants descendants for as long as there was a bloodline left. Whatever the truth was, he didn't care, far too relieved to be saved by giant eagles even if the height terrified him. Though he still had enough of his mind about him to remember his manners and properly bless the eagles and their kin as thanks for saving their lives.

Thankfully it was Gandalf who revived Thorin, as Bilbo was far too tired and hungry to do it himself at the moment, though when Thorin hugged him in friendship, acceptance, and gratitude, Bilbo knew then why he had acted so rashly, he was in love with Thorin bloody Oakenshield. Oh dear.

He needed to rest, in fact he wouldn't have minded being buried for a day or two just to recover properly, but there was no immediate rest for the weary, however the stream at the bottom of the Carrock that let him have his first proper bath in days helped immensely. At Beorns' house he was as happy as a hobbit outside the Shire could be, and charmed and blessed the skinchangers' lands and crops and garden and animals at least thrice over in thanks for feeding them up properly and allowing the company to rest and recover. Beorn was quite fond of his 'little bunny' and the stories he told, and if Bilbo happened to weave peace and friendship charms into the telling of said stories, just as a precaution towards the more temperamental form of their host, well that was his business.

First Bilbo assisted Oin with the first aid, and if the dwarves' wounds healed a bit faster, or their pain diminished any quicker than usual, and the poultices on their wounds were not actually put there by Oin, it wasn't exactly noted or noticed. And if the hearty lentil stew and herb bread he made them that night made them feel nearly entirely back to rights, why it surely was because that's what good food does. Nor did they notice the sachets of agrimony, lavender, chamomile, valerian, and mugwort he put in their pillows, but they all slept the most soundly they had done since leaving Bilbo's home regardless.

No one noticed that Bilbo was prone to disappearing in the early afternoon the first two days and returning for an early supper with rather more dirt on him than was usual for a man who'd had a bath that morning, and was fastidious about laundry. He traded recipes with Beorn in exchange for hard waxed cheeses, a map with the path clearly marked, and good information about how long the journey through Mirkwood would take. He made his grandmothers' famous rose petal jelly that was delicious over fresh bread or delicate enough to be substituted for honey in one's tea, and Beorn liked it so much that Bilbo traded the recipe to him for as many waterskins as the company could carry, since he had found out that the water in the wood was undrinkable.

He knew better by now than to take any sort of chances with this lot and their deplorable luck, which reminded him to do a good luck charm as well as every blessing for safe paths that he could remember, and a few he made up on the spot just in case. He made a sachet of basil that he wore around his neck for courage and for better communication with dragons, and had everyone drink at least one cup of tea that he had added borage and mint to. The dwarves thought him behaving quite oddly with the little bundles of herbs and flowers he threw into the fire every few hours, or the dish of herb water that he flicked over all of their clothes with a bundle of fresh sage and rosemary, and even managed to sprinkle all of them with at some point or another if they happened to pass even remotely close by him, and were sought out to be sprinkled even if they were nowhere nearby him.

But Bilbo didn't care how odd they thought him, he was determined that they were all going to make it through this insanity alive and in one piece. None of them noticed the pinch of angelica and the mint leaf placed in each of their boots for protection during travel, luck, and to destroy all bad luck and curses, or the sprig of juniper he sewed into their new packs so they would stop losing their things. But they did notice the sprig of heather he placed in each one's pocket, which he replaced firmly anytime someone tried to remove it, until they all gave in, unwilling to truly anger their hobbit, who had taken to trying to have them wear the flowers in their hair if they refused to carry them in a pocket, until they conceded.

Ori actually wore an entire crown of heather on his head quite happily one afternoon, especially when it made Bilbo smile so much, and the hobbit was wearing one himself anyway. Fili and Kili refused to be left out on the same thing after that, and the boys made it a game to try and crown the rest of them with heather, which the rest of them disliked, but Bilbo was so happy that most of them did it, even if only for an hour. Beorn thought it was fabulous fun and had no issue with wearing his once the boys crowned him too.

Bilbo then all but took over the kitchen for two days as he baked fruit and vegetable leathers and ten varieties of journey bread, made ration cakes, which were potatoes, beans, cheese, and vegetables that were cooked, ground into a paste with olive oil and salt, spread out very thinly, baked, and cut into strips that could be eaten like jerky. He also made nut and seed cakes with honey, which were extremely filling and could last nigh on forever, as well as tiny ground and pressed herb cubes that could be added to the stew pots to give things flavor, or eaten by themselves if food got too spare.

Bilbo hated Mirkwood, the very air seemed to make him nauseous, and for the first time in his life, he bound cloth over his feet so that he wouldn't touch the earth more than he had to, a terrible feeling for any fey. They had not gotten lost or run out of provisions thanks to the map, their extra water skins, and Bilbo's insistence on careful rationing, but they were captured by an elven hunting party regardless. What thirty elves could be hunting in this foul place completely devoid of wildlife, Bilbo could only imagine, and didn't really want to know. He luckily spotted a swallow-wort growing nearby and snatched a sprig up, quickly stuffing it into his shirt. He knew the herb was doing its job when he managed to free everyone and his hair brained escape plan worked flawlessly.

By Laketown he was exhausted, he had never needed to use so many charms and blessings in his life before this quest, and though he had spent a few afternoons laying in Beorn's garden, he hadn't been able to truly Sleep properly without raising suspicion, and the exertion and the icy water took it's toll on him in the form of a vicious head cold, and not a smidgen of soft soil anywhere on the long lake or its rocky shore for him to even curl his toes into to make his headache abate. It took three days before he was recovered, and the dwarves were all exceedingly kind, but he longed for a garden patch regardless. It still wasn't a good time though, the mountain was ahead and there was nothing to be done about it until after Durin's day, which thankfully was in only a few days time.

Dragons were quite like the Unseelie to deal with, all mischief and magic and pride, it was much easier than what he had been expecting, which was pure evil, attack first, ask questions never. Riddles and ego stroking and witty banter were much easier to deal with than an unending stream of flames or trying to not be eaten.

“What are you, I have never smelled your kind before, not elf or man or dwarf, but something else.”

“I am all of those and none of those at the same time. Our blood is blended with every race, except perhaps orc, though the goblins are a very distant relation on the dark branch of the bloodline, definitely Unseelie whatever it is, they might have done something with that. My race leads away the lost children and keeps them for our own, my race are the mischief ones and the ones who walk unseen, my race are known as the fair folk, the Sidhe, the seelie, the little people, the fey. I very much doubt a creature such as you has heard of us. My particular kin value gardens over gold, though we would never object to a shiny piece of quartz to catch the light just right and cast a rainbow on the wall. I must confess, you are the first dragon I have ever met, why do you like gold so much? It's not like you can eat it, or spend it, and it's dreadfully hard and heavy so it can't be very comfortable to lay on. I admit the sound of the coins chiming together is rather pleasant, but nothing I'd miss elevensies over. I guess I just fail to see what the appeal is, though your waistcoat of gold and gemstones is quite fetching on you, might I see it closer? You have really done a remarkable job on it.”

Dragons soon joined orcs on Bilbo's new 'Things I Never Thought I Would Ever Need To Curse, But Have' list. Trying to burn him to death before leaving, honestly, how rude. He's later surprised it took as quickly as it did, with as little energy for it as he had left. It just proved that a hobbit protecting the ones they loved should not be threatened. He had no idea about Smaug's fate, because he had been busy at the time. The gold was cursed, horribly cursed, and Bilbo was having none of that, who knows what such nastiness could do to his dwarves. It really was a foolish thing to try and attempt without even a full stomach to go on, as he placed the biggest purification spell and blessing on the gold he could, never going back up to the dwarves, who came in once the dragon left the mountain anyway. He found out much later on that Smaug had barely even made it to Laketown before Bard's aim with the windlance held true and struck the beast down right on the shore, thanks to the clever thrush. The only casualty to Smaug's flames was The Master's house, which unfortunately had been occupied at the time. Under Bard's direction the townspeople got a bucket line going and saved the rest.

Bilbo passed out for a whole day and night and had the most vicious of headaches upon waking. The blessing had only worked part way at that, probably due to how vast the treasure was and how weak he still was. He woke in time to see elves and men at the gates, and got there just in time to stop Thorin from making it worse. The rest of the dwarves were fine, but Thorin still had a very light touch of gold lust, making him greedier than usual, but nothing as bad as what could have happened had that curse remained and he'd touched the treasure, so Bilbo felt it was worth it. Once he found out what had happened, he told Bard "The dragon had plenty of gold and gems stuck to him when he had left, why don't you use that until the absolute mess the dwarves have to clean up ahead of them can be taken care of?"

Apparently that hadn't occurred to them, and when Bard said "The men won't go near the wyrm, for fear of it."

Bilbo asked "Since when is a hunter afraid of his kill? If it's dead what else is left to fear from Smaug?"

The men left peacefully.

When Thorin began to refuse Thranduil's request for his property back, Bilbo had had quite enough. Apologizing and telling Thranduil they would return shortly, he took the arrogant sot by the ear and dragged him away from the wall like a scolded child, chiding Thorin along the way.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to take things that don't belong to you? You should be ashamed of yourself!"

He forced Thorin to retrieve the necklace and then hand it over personally to Thranduil. The fact they all but tripped over the Arkenstone on the way back to the gate was merely a bonus.

When the army of Orcs showed up, Bilbo was beyond done, he was absolutely finished with the whole mess. He was exhausted, hungry, and wished that he was home in the Shire with his armchair and as much food as he could manage to eat before burying himself in the earth for a month. But that again wasn't an option at the moment. Apparently Thorin had anticipated war with the Men and Elves, and had called for aide, and Dain and his army showed up and joined the elves, who were already neck deep in bloodshed and carnage, so of course his dwarves just couldn't resist joining the madness. They decked themselves out in armor, Thorin even insisted on putting a beautiful mail tunic on Bilbo, and for some reason Bilbo couldn't even protest it though he did insist that Thorin and the boys wear their own mail properly so it could actually protect them and not just look pretty. He then embraced each one of his precious dwarves and blessed each of them in hobbitish for protection, and they surprisingly let him without a hint of fuss or embarrassment.

He also lit a fire and cast the last of the dried red nasturtiums he had found at Beorn's into it for victory in battle and for it to be their enemy's blood that was spilled and not their own. The dwarves charged out of the mountain, and Bilbo did too, even though he had no idea what he was doing other than going to attempt to protect that which was his. The battle was nothing Bilbo could read. He had no idea if they were winning or losing, all he could do was try to fight to the best of his ability. The fight against Azog was horrible to watch, his heart nearly stopped when Fili was stabbed and Kili fell. He tried to run to them, but the orc swarm was too much and they had to retreat, but only minutes later the curse Bilbo had done back before the eagles came, took effect.

Thorin, on his back, and possibly going to die from exhaustion and multiple wounds, took out the scourge with a lucky stab to the gut and a kick that sent him under the ice, but not before Azog had managed to stab him back and began dragging Thorin under with him. Bilbo darted forward, desperately slashing his sword down onto the hand that had Thorin by the leg, and severed Azog's last remaining hand, the blow stopped by Thorin's thick boots, protecting him from being cut as well. Azog could not recover, and sank to his doom. Thorin was still breathing, but he was in extremely sorry shape, while Bilbo was all but unscathed. Dwarves, for all their stubbornness, were still mortal. He was too far away to help Fili or Kili, but Thorin he could help, Thorin he could save.

“Thorin, Thorin look at me, look at me. It's going to be alright. You're going to be just fine okay? I'm not going to let you die. Thorin? Thorin, you have to listen to me alright? Listen to my voice. You need to bury me in soft earth, and place plants and flowers over me. When they die you must replace them over and over, every day, until they don't. Once the flowers stay alive, then you'll know that it won't be long. I love you Thorin, you aren't going to die, don't worry, all will be well.”

He cradled Thorin in his arms, placed a tender kiss on his brow and lips, and his hand over the worst of Thorin's wounds, willing them to heal with the last of his strength, and giving Thorin all of his life force save the single spark he'd need to come back, even though such a thing meant he'd be sleeping a long time, easily several months or longer. This should really have been a group healing, but that wasn't possible at the moment. As the warm green light under his hand sank into Thorin's body, Bilbo felt the wounds closing, the damage healing, the warmth returning to Thorin's skin, the color to his face, and his breathing easing entirely. Thorin was staring at him as if he had never seen him before in his life.

Before the Sleep claimed him he kissed Thorin's head again and smiled at his king. “Bury me in the soft earth, and plant flowers...” and the world became gentle, healing, darkness.


	2. Thorin can't follow simple directions, or, Sleeping Baggins and the Thirteen Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin Oakenshield is not very good at following even the simplest of instructions.

Thorin truly thought the hobbit, his hobbit, was dead. All life had gone out of him, he was cold and still and unbreathing, though Thorin could not find a single serious wound. He lay there on the ice, the hobbit who moments before had been perfectly hale and sound, now crouched over him dead, while Thorin was no longer dying, even though he had been. He had seen the soft green light, Bilbo had all but glowed with it as he held him, and it had been no fever dream. This new reality was nothing short of a nightmare though.

Thorin finally understood his feelings for the hobbit, moments before the hobbit exchanged his own life for Thorin's. Dwarves love but once in their lives, that's why a dwarf calls their love their One. Thorin had been too blind to see it before, though Bilbo had obviously figured out his own feelings long ago.

That's where the company found Thorin sometime later, there on the ice, clutching Bilbo's lifeless body as he sobbed out his heartbreak. Their burglar was borne back to Erebor in a procession fit for a fallen king or prince. Gandalf couldn't bear to look, and left that same day. Thorin learned on the way there that both of his nephews had somehow miraculously survived, grievously injured though they were, and even though he'd been run through with a sword, he was among the walking wounded and not the fallen, because his One had taken his place. He told no one the truth, who would possibly believe him?

Thorin had every intention of fulfilling Bilbo's last request, he truly did, it was the least he could do, but the timing was terrible. Not only was there the aftermath of the battle to deal with, but also the politics of reclaiming his throne properly. There was the injured to tend to, winter provisions to buy and housing to locate, because winter set in hard the very next day, and two days later a raging blizzard drove every, man, dwarf, and elf into the mountain, and freezing solid everything left outside the gates. Battlefield law still remained, the dead would keep, the injured would not, and there were several injured and now was not the time for grief.

There was no soft earth to lay Bilbo in anyways, and no flowers that could grow. So they laid him in the stone, intending to wait until spring. It was a hard winter, harder than any Thorin could remember, but thankfully the men and elves left once the storm let up for several days. A memorial for the fallen was commissioned, and Bilbo's name was placed at the very top of it, hailed as a hero for saving the king, though no one but Thorin really knew how. Songs were sung of the battle, and Bilbo's would have surely made him laugh and blush and squirm.

There was one song however, that no one sang save for Thorin, and no one but the dead ever heard it. He sang it every day when he visited Bilbo's tomb, quietly, fingering the letters of Bilbo's name that was carved in the stone. A soft, sad song about lost love and missed opportunities and eternal devotion. Spring came slowly, and with it the cleanup of the battle field, the blessed dead were given honors and lain to rest in the stone properly, and a funeral feast was laid out the likes of which had not been seen in over three hundred years.

Thorin went outside the mountain to find the perfect place to bury his love. At first he thought near the hidden stair, but the land was far too stony, his love had asked for soft earth, and Thorin was intent on providing it for him. He searched all of the area near Erebor, but finally decided that near the riverbank where Bilbo had died would be the best he could manage without burying him in Mirkwood, which Bilbo had hated with a passion.

He had every intention of fulfilling Bilbo's wishes, he really did. But when the sepulcher was opened four months after Bilbo had been laid to rest there, miraculously, his body was entirely perfect and unspoiled, as if he were merely asleep instead of dead. Thorin's heart broke anew, seeing Bilbo look so beautiful, even in death, and couldn't bear to bury him twice when it was so easy to pretend that Bilbo was merely sleeping. He commissioned a glass coffin to be made, lined in soft moss, and Bilbo was laid there in dwarven finery, silks, and velvet, and furs, his mithril mail shining bright, and a golden circlet of ivy and dwarven runes upon his head, and the Elvish dagger/sword that had saved Thorin's life in his hands.

The coffin was displayed atop a stone platform with an armed guard to either side. It was raised outside of the throne room, a golden placard mounted at the bottom with _**'Bilbo Baggins of The Shire, Burglar. Our Lucky Number, Wielder of Sting, The Trolls' Dinner Thief, Riddle Winner, Barrel Rider, Shadow Dancer, Defeater of Azog, and He who Laughed at Live Dragons. Beloved friend, loyal member of The Company, and savior of Thorin II “Oakenshield” of the line of Durin, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror, King Under The Mountain. All pay honor and respect, for here lies the True Hero of Erebor.'**_ written on it in Khuzdul, Westron, and Sindarin. The only time all three languages had appeared in one place together since anyone could recall.

Every visitor that passed could view him and pay their respects. No flowers grew in Erebor, and nothing grew in the Desolation. So Thorin crafted him flowers out of gems and jewels and gold and silver, things that would never fade, just like Bilbo still didn't fade, nor did Thorin's feelings for him. Eventually others took up doing the same. They made flowers of glass, cloth, lace, and embroidery, children would make ribbon roses and folded paper flowers they dabbed with perfume, or left bundles of fresh and dried herbs.

Thorin scoured the slopes, and found a few tiny blue flowers growing, and he picked them and pressed them and set them in a crystal pendant he placed around Bilbo's neck. A traveler brought a lovely ivy vine growing in a pot, and Thorin set it at the bottom of Bilbo's platform. He couldn't give him flowers, but a lovely growing thing would surely have pleased Bilbo. It died within a few days, so Thorin had another one crafted out of silk. The elves brought seeded flowers when they visited, but all died the next day when placed near Bilbo's coffin, until finally they just brought cut flowers instead, which lasted a day or two longer for some reason.

The first year anniversary of the battle passed, and still Thorin's heart did not mend. He had sent emissaries to the Shire six months earlier to determine who Bilbo's next of kin was, in order to see who got his share of the treasure, and settle the details of his will. Nori, Bofur, Bifur, Ori, and Dwalin had only been too happy to volunteer to go to the Shire and settle Bilbo's affairs. Though he hadn't heard from them since they had passed Rivendell, he was sure all was going well, after all, what could possibly happen in the Shire?

 

Dwalin and the others couldn't believe such a thing could happen in the Shire. This sort of thing was usually only the worst behavior of the most greedy of dwarves, not the kindly, generous and humble hobbits they had been told of in great detail by their friend. Breaking into his home and selling off his possessions to the highest bidder without even having confirmation of his death first? It was unbelievable, and it rightly angered all of them.

Dwalin was the one to actually lose his temper over it though. To steal the belongings of such a great and honored hero, not to mention a dear friend... suffice it to say the hobbits had no warning before a huge enraged dwarf with battle axes drawn charged into the middle of them snarling and threatening to hack off the arms of anyone who attempted to take a single thing or refuse to return what had already been taken.

The others were not far behind, all of them used to following Dwalin's lead into battle, and this time being no different. They stormed in with weapons raised, terrifying the hobbits, who scattered and dropped the items, fleeing for their lives from the enraged dwarves, especially Dwalin and Bifur. Within moments Ori had the auctioneer's list and the coin purse, and Balin had effectively made sure Bilbo's yard was empty of all of his unwanted visitors. Nori having told everyone to spread the word that they had an hour to return everything, or that he would then go out and find it for them, and anything else he happened to take a shine to while he was there. There was a hobbit woman who was shrieking at them about her rights, and that Bag End and all of its contents was rightfully hers. Bofur snagged her from behind.

“You must be his cousin Lobelia then. Bilbo told us about you.”

“Aye, that he did.” Dwalin snarled and did what Bilbo had told him to always do after a meeting with the woman, he searched her pockets. “He said, 'she always tries to take the silver, never let Lobelia leave your house without checking her pockets for the silver.' And I'm not one to go against the advice of a friend.” Sure enough the silver was in her pockets, and removed just as quickly as it had been put there, before she was turned out the front gate.

Items appeared outside the gate, no one daring to come any closer, and Ori, the least threatening of their number, handed the coins and goods payed back to the unhappy customers. It only occurred to Ori later, that diplomacy might have worked just as well as force had, but force was admittedly much faster. They set a watch that night, especially after some of the Bounders had been summoned due to the disturbance and were only placated by the fact the dwarves were there to settle official property rights, and had not taken kindly to what they saw as looting, especially when many of the items were specifically mentioned in the will under a legal contract made nearly two years ago, and therefore, it was not the right of Lobelia to have any authority on their sale or distribution whatsoever, but at this time they were not going to pursue legal action due to the fact all the items had been returned.

Ori put a notice on the gate that unless specifically invited, visitors would not be welcome. He needn't have bothered, there wasn't a hobbit aside from the Gamgees willing to set foot near Bag End at the moment. Nori took off during the second day and returned a few times with items that apparently had not willingly been returned, though how he knew or remembered what all of these items were, no one cared to ask. Once the hobbits realized that the threat he had made was serious, the remaining things returned themselves most promptly.

It took two weeks for everything to be sorted and accounted for before Ori sent out letters to the ones mentioned in Bilbo's Will.

> To whom it may concern, we the Dwarves of Erebor have been charged by our King, Thorin Oakenshield II of the line of Durin, King Under the Mountain, in arranging, fulfilling, and concluding the worldly affairs of Bilbo Baggins the fallen member of The Company of Thorin Oakenshield. In addition to Master Baggin's property here in the Shire, there is also the matter of the sizable fortune that was going to be his rightful due at the conclusion of his contract with us, and which has been posthumously granted to him in respectful thanks after saving the King's life at the cost of his own. We the dwarves of Erebor have therefore been tasked to find the rightful recipient of this fortune due to the fact that Master Baggins left no immediate heir. You have received this missive due to the fact that your name, among others, has been mentioned in Master Baggins' will, and we have determined that only those mentioned in his Will shall be up for a share of the treasure, in accordance to what we believe were Bilbo Baggins' final wishes in regarding his estate. There is to be a private Will reading in three days time at Bag End during Teatime, Master Baggins' favorite meal of the day, and you are cordially invited to attend, alone. Only those mentioned in the Will are allowed in attendance. We thank you for your consideration. Sincerely, The Dwarves of Erebor: Ori, Dwalin, Nori, Bofur, and Bifur.

There was commotion of hundreds of hobbits gossiping fit to burst the next few days, there was nothing more interesting than the fact that Bilbo Baggins had somehow pulled off the almost unheard of feat of becoming even more rich after he died, and died saving a king at that. Oh there was speculation abounding everywhere on what it could have been that had managed to do the deed, hobbits were not an easy folk to kill, they knew. Those who had been granted invitations to the will reading were all badgered into agreeing to find a way to hear the whole truth of it, as well as to know, had the dwarves also returned with Bilbo's bones? For a hobbit not to be buried in the Shire... well it was unheard of to say the least!

Even though over fifty people had been mentioned in the will, only fifteen had accepted the invitation, it being common practice that every family send a representative who would take notes of what went to whom in their families and then be in charge of distributing it out among their kin. Three days later there was all but a procession of curious onlookers from every corner of Hobbiton and even from elsewhere, following the invitees up to Bag End. Every last one of them was laden down with large baskets of cakes, breads, pies, and tarts, casseroles, side dishes, cookies, scones, and sandwiches, even a few beautifully roasted chickens. Everyone knew a will reading was serious business, and could last hours, so they were making sure that there was plenty for both Tea and Dinner, should it prove necessary. The dwarves were surprised to see so many hobbits gathered outside of Bag End, but only those who had been invited even came near the front gate.

The dining room table was ready and waiting, Ori had gone to great lengths to make it as good as he could, having found a book on hobbitish culture and manners regarding mealtimes in Bilbo's library, and practically memorizing it. The women folk had come prepared to have to do everything, including the setup, but were pleasantly surprised to see nearly everything already done. Their dishes were laid out on the table and they then filled several tea pots, each with a different brew and marked with tags. They made large bowls of cold punch and a platter filled with fruits and cheeses.

The dwarves were quite out of their usual element, but were quick to follow the examples of others. In the Shire no business was to ever be discussed before a meal, it was bad for the digestion, and so tea time was a slightly awkward affair with so many different hobbits and a bunch of dwarves with nothing really in common to talk about, though they made polite small talk and chit chat after awhile. Once the formalities were over and the dishes done, with Lobelia shuffled off to the side as far as possible and watched like a hawk, (even though she was not willing to try anything in front of Bifur or Dwalin) which several other hobbits seemed to quite approve of, they sat around the table with water and punch and the platter of fruits and cheeses for snacking, and every last invited guest took out quill, ink, and a large stack of parchment, ready and waiting attentively.

Ori sat at the front, their official solicitor for this affair. Page by page, Ori read through the will, bequeathing item after item, and having realized when he first read the thing in its entirety two weeks ago, that Bilbo had truly itemized every last thing he owned into it, an unheard of thing among dwarves, but with the way the hobbits were behaving, and taking vigorous notes, this obviously was common practice in the Shire. Every dwarf present could tell whenever a coveted item of interest was brought up, the hobbits would perk up, sit up straighter, or just get a particular glint in their eye, and the 'winner' of said item would be undoubtedly smug, though not too obviously.

They realized that it was all a delicate game of politics, and affection. Each item showed a particular level of favor the deceased had for them, and there was a subtle tone of seeing who was the most well liked, for apparently it could affect one's social standing, depending on the reputation of the deceased. Before Bilbo's departure, his reputation had been 'Perfectly Respectable' which had been said with a note of reverence whenever it had been mentioned during tea time. Running off into the wild after a bunch of dwarves wasn't considered so, but it appeared to be the only black mark on his record, seeing as giving one's life for another was considered very noble, and as 'respectable' as it got.

It was two hours before Ori began getting to the larger items, pieces of furniture and heirlooms of importance. “My mother's glory box-”, and here every person perked up, alert and ready. Belladonna's glory box had been the envy of Hobbiton since she had been a tween. Her stitching and embroidery was exceptional, her knitting superb, and her crochet... well one only needed to look around bag end to see how good it was. The dwarves had no idea, but the bequeathing of a glory box by a male relative was the same as saying 'I would have loved to have her as a daughter', a highly desired position for someone with Bilbo's reputation “bearing all of the original contents within, I bequeath to my cousin Primula Brandybuck, for the occasion of her coming of age.” There were several glares aimed towards the Brandybuck representative who jotted the note down with a smug grin.

More of the higher ranked items were being given now, there wasn't a single person that didn't have quill in hand, ready. “To Lobelia Sackville-Baggins-” a name that had not come up much at all, or her husband Otho, or any of the Sackville-Baggins relations for that matter, and when it did, it had always been small items, and never anything the whole group was interested in, and now they were on those large important items. “I bequeath 'Bag End'-”

“WHAT?!”

Was the general sentiment shouted by every representative of every family, and a general war looked about to be waged right there in the dining room. Ori calmly turned the page.

“Commissioned by Sassafrass Longbottom, and currently hanging on the dining room wall.”

Dead silence rang through the room diffusing what had nearly been the beginning of a blood feud between the Tooks and the Sackville-Bagginses, and nearly as one, every head present turned towards the innocuous yet exceptionally well done painting hanging well within sight right behind Ori's chair, and while Lobelia turned a rather virulent shade of puce then red and finally purple, the rest began laughing their heads off at what was apparently a rather vicious snub.

When the reading was done, Bag End to be bequeathed to Primula Brandybuck on her wedding day as a wedding gift, and it was blindingly apparent that Bilbo had favored his Brandybuck and Took relations the most, with many others very well liked and all but the Sackville-Bagginses were quite pleased with the result.

The Gamgee representative was actually the one to speak up about what all of the families had wanted to know. “So, begging your pardon, but seeing as you're foreigners I'm betting that you don't know our customs. Seeing as you have read the Will, it means that you have proof of his death and can set him back into the earth as the last order of business. Where's Mister Baggins' bones, so that we can bury him properly?”

Ori smiled gently “His body remains back in Erebor, given honors of state usually only reserved for royalty. His funeral request in his contract said that it didn't matter where he was buried, as long as we saw it done, but he died in winter, so he was laid in the stone until spring, and when we went to bury him, decay had miraculously not touched his body, and still hasn't to this day. His Majesty, in his love and grief built him a glass coffin, so that all who pass by may honor him and his sacrifice for our people. He wished for soft earth and flowers, but nothing like that grows in Erebor, and our home is pure stone. So we lined the coffin in soft moss and we have crafted him flowers out of glass and jewels and metals that shall never fade, and the children craft ones of paper or cloth and scented with perfume. He is well loved and respected among our people, a true hero, and we honored him as best we could.”

Instead of his words comforting the gathered members that their friend and relation had been treated with the utmost respect, every last one of them had fallen silent with a horrified expression on their faces, and most looked quite pale. It was Hobson Gamgee who shook off the stupor first, standing up and tearing his parchment into pieces. “Well bugger that! This ain't legal, not a bit of it! If you're needing dirt I can send you a whole damn cart full of it, seeds and seedlings too, I'm not about to let you lot kill Mister Baggins!”

The rest of the hobbits were in an uproar immediately after that, tearing up their parchments, the Took representative snatching Lobelia's from her and shredding it. A committee was formed with every last person making suggestions about carrier birds with seeds, and messages, and perhaps even mounting an expedition to rescue poor Mister Baggins from his terrible fate (that was the Tooks and the Brandybucks).

The dwarves were mostly confused about what was happening, what had they said to offend so badly?

The Boffin woman who had come with her Bolger cousin was the first to notice the dwarves' confusion. “He ain't dead you loggerheads! When a hobbit dies the flesh falls away like dry autumn leaves within a week, leaving the bones pristine for the funeral where they're laid in the earth, and those are gone within a year of being buried. But when we're healing we sleep in the earth to regain our health, and the flowers and herbs planted on top of us give us their strength, dying to give us life, when they stop dying we start waking up, hale and sound. You lot are keeping him from healing! He ain't dead yet, but he could be soon with how long it's gone on!”

The dwarves immediately panicked, racing for parchment and quills and sending not only word to Erebor, but also for help from the Iron Hills and Mirkwood, explaining the situation and requesting them to deliver soil, plants the hobbits specified, and seeds, which would reach Erebor much faster than they could. The dwarves had packed up within the day, and three Tooks, four Brandybucks, Holman Greenhand, and Hobson Gamgee had three carts filled with soil, plants and seeds ready, and insisting on following along.They set out at dawn, eight hobbits and five dwarves, and meeting with three Rangers who guided them on a safer path that provided a huge shortcut that was very safe, and provided extra security, all of them trying to reach Erebor as fast as they could.

When Thorin received the first of near twenty messages all telling him almost the same thing, he felt pale, and ill, and not wanting to believe it. He hadn't known, that was the only defense he had, that he hadn't understood what he'd been told, not fully. He terrified his guards, ordering them to find dirt, any dirt, and return. They dug up the mud from the bottom of the Long Lake, and silt from the bottom of the riverbank, they sifted the finest dusts from the mines they could manage, and the ashes and sparse sand from the Desolation. They mixed it all together, into something that was a fair bit too wet to be any sort of proper soil, but was the best they could manage. Thorin had Bilbo dressed in simple loose cloth, as he'd been instructed, and buried Bilbo in it, leaving only his face exposed, because some innate fear of smothering the hobbit in his sleep held him back. Within a week the Iron Hills messenger arrived with three bags of red dirt, which was also mixed in, drying out the mixture they had, but also staining everything it touched a very vivid reddish orange. The elves of Mirkwood arrived the next day with leaves and bark and a small bag of actual soil, there was little to be collected with how thickly the trees grew and how poisoned the wood had become.

Ori had actually managed to think clearer than the rest of them and sent word to Beorn as well, who arrived with good loamy soil and a whole collection of plants and seeds from his garden, and set right to work planting the hobbit like an overgrown tulip bulb that he tended daily with the utmost care, right under a tree at the edge of Mirkwood with all of the collected soil, and replacing the plants on it near daily. Within a month the tree was dead and Beorn moved him to a new one, guarding his Little Bunny as a bear during the night hours, while the dwarves guarded Bilbo through the day.

The company that was coming from the Shire made amazing time in just six months, considering they had wagons, and the hobbits got straight to work, digging a true garden plot and absolutely covering the sleeping hobbit with what had already been gathered, as well as fresh Shire earth. They planted poppy, pansy, thyme, athelas, sage, and chamomile by the dozens, having grown seedlings and even full sized plants along the way. Midsummer was only a week after they arrived and they planned a group healing that night. They barred everyone else from attendance, and secluded themselves behind a ring of wagons and performed mysteries the dwarves, elves, and shapeshifter could only guess at.

The next day found the other Hobbits were planted in a ring around Bilbo, all except one, Hobson Gamgee, who seemed to hold the title of The Tender, a solemn sounding title when the hobbit said it, but that the dwarves figured he held because he had the most experience with plants. After a week the other hobbits woke up, plucked from the earth as they reached for the light, each one met by Gamgee gripping their hand and helping them up. The hobbits were now smiling, instead of the grim faces they had all had up until that point.

They planted different plants now, things the dwarves couldn't identify, but that the elves looked at with some slight concern. It was another fortnight before the array of plants and flowers planted atop Bilbo stopped dying altogether, and a month later, Bilbo Baggins woke up.

He first became aware of the soft feeling of earth on his fingers and face, the gentle dark heaviness pressing over his eyes, keeping them shut, the heavy warm yet cool weight of the earth all around him, and the roots twining around his fingers and toes. He had become quite worried, after losing the strength to stay cognizant after the dwarves had foolishly not followed his instructions and laid him first in stone and then in glass of all things! He had nearly given himself up for dead! He was going to give Thorin Oakenshield such a piece of his mind!

He knew better than to breathe while underground, so he did his best to begin to stretch his arms up. He had no idea how he had finally managed to be buried in soil, a very strange mix of soils at that, but his hand came through easily enough, and surprisingly he felt a hand grab hold of his and haul him up into the light. He was staring Hobson Gamgee in the face in confusion, and there around him were several of his fondest relations, and yet there in the distance was undoubtedly Erebor.

“What- what happened? How did you get here?” He was obviously on the edges of Mirkwood, but the patch of earth was not poisoned, and he had obviously needed more than three trees, and the compost pile off to the side was... impressive. He had obviously been in very bad shape. All of them had obviously Slept for him, and he could feel the Fae kiss upon the land, which meant Midsummer had come and gone.

“They sent a group to the Shire to settle your affairs, and when we realized you weren't dead and that they were accidentally trying to kill you, well, we mounted a rescue party. They were trying to bury you in silt, mud, sand, iron sand, dust, and clay with just a little bit of wild dirt before we got here! If it hadn't been for that bear friend of yours bringing loamy soil from his garden, and tending you until we arrived, we probably would have lost you.” Hobson said with a grin.

Bilbo frowned. “That's the problem with Erebor, no soil, and after the dragon poisoned the land, nothing grows. It's such a sad place. I should have known better than to try and ask to be buried here, should have told him to return me to the Shire or Beorn's and be buried there.”

“Well from what that dwarf of yours told us, you probably only had a few seconds to explain, seeing as you gave him all but the Spark of you.”and that was definitely a cheeky glint in his gardener's eye.

“He was dying, we had possibly already lost my heart sons, I couldn't bear... I know I wasn't thinking clearly, I think I had even tried to still cast a few blessings back towards the boys as I was healing Thorin, and I had already been so drained... I'm actually surprised I didn't die outright.”

“Not for lack of trying, you or them. Your boys are alive by the way, all thirteen of them, they have been hovering night and day, well except Midsummer, we kept that private.”

That knowledge was a huge weight off of Bilbo's shoulders. In fact it was so relieving he gasped, his throat filled with tears, and he went weak in the knees. He hadn't known they had all lived, oh he had hoped and wished and prayed, but he hadn't known. He could only hear what was said, and no one had said that they had all lived, the boys had never spoken if they visited, or if they had he hadn't recognized them, the voices he could hear through glass and stone were distorted and muffled most times, all except Thorin's. That voice was unmistakable. It might be unseemly, but he broke down crying. Oh he truly was in trouble wasn't he? These dwarves had stolen his heart completely.

“Come on Mister Bilbo, let's get you cleaned up and fed, there we go, come on now, you'll feel right as rain in no time.”

Cleaned up, fed, and now dressed in clothes that they had brought from his own closet at home, Bilbo truly felt like a proper hobbit again, which was rather disconcerting after having been treated like any other dwarf in the Company for so long. But he was a very tired and weak hobbit, as well. It washalf a day's walk to Erebor, and Bilbo simply did not have the strength to exert himself that far. Bombur, Bifur and Bofur were there at the time and he quite happily embraced them all and knocked them upside the head with his fist, instead of risking bashing his forehead against anyone else's. Dwarves had quite possibly the thickest skulls ever known, literally and figuratively.

Unknown to him, a raven had taken off the moment he came up out of the ground, and no sooner had Bilbo finished bathing, eating, dressing, and having the stuffing hugged out of him first by dwarves, and then by Beorn, the hobbits, and then Beorn again, the rest of the company arrived on ponies that they had no doubt run full speed the whole way there.

Holman took the horses to cool them off and water them, while one after another the members of the company embraced their lucky hobbit. Everyone was talking at once, it was a very merry din of voices that he had learned to follow perfectly along with long since, and he was pretty much crying as he held tight to Fili and Kili, all but sobbing 'my boys, my boys' over and over, and though the boys were blushing, so were the other company members, for they knew they were also included in Bilbo's little circle of 'people who are extremely important to me'.

The only one who stayed back was Thorin, who fretted on the edges, until Bilbo noticed he wasn't a part of their happy group hug he was currently ensconced in. “Thorin Oakenshield, you have **_two seconds_** to get over here before I curse you for the rest of your life to trip over your own ego every time you enter the throne room!”

As if by magic, Thorin appeared in front of him, the other dwarves moved aside, and Bilbo reached up, grabbed Thorin's hand and yanked him down to the ground where he was sitting. “You should know that I am going to be so **_very_ ** cross with you, but it can wait until later.”

He pulled the king towards him, who went for the most part willingly, the rest was entirely gravity's doing as Bilbo had him falling forward into the Hobbit's embrace, where Bilbo kissed him quite soundly. It was a very nice kiss, and held about as much emotion in it as certain embrace on top of a Carrock had done so long ago.

“I heard you you know,” Bilbo murmured into his ear after a moment. “Every day, until about the year mark. Unless we are too weak, we are aware of our surroundings. I heard you.”

That sent Thorin near to weeping and he held Bilbo to him all the closer. It was a giant dwarf pile of hugs with one very happy hobbit in the middle of all of them, and if any of them had been paying the slightest attention, they would have felt the blessing of happiness the other hobbits gave to them all.


	3. Bilbo's Parties Are Resulting In A Worrying Number Of Quests Lately, or, The Riddle Of Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has to take care of something before he and his dwarf can live happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was DETERMINED to post something on my actual birthday for once, and though I tried as hard as I could, I had to settle for the day after instead. This chapter was surprisingly cooperative on letting me finish it, which I am glad for. I am sick as heck, so I will have to go over things again when I am not ridiculously ill, dying of coughing, and muddy headed on medicine, in order to check it for other errors. I did the best I could, but if you see any errors, please point them out so I can fix them.

Bilbo _was_ cross with Thorin later, but it didn't last very long, one good telling off, that somehow still managed to end in kissing, a lifetime of blushing as he realized the lengths Thorin had gone to in order to honor him, and the dwarves of Erebor looking at Bilbo as if he were Durin returned, very swiftly turned his anger into flustered embarrassment.

Three weeks later, the hobbits were preparing to go home, having had more than enough of adventures now that Bilbo Baggins was safe and sound, and according to them, returning with them, to the disbelief of every last member of the Company. Thorin asked, nearly begged him to stay, to live in Erebor and stay by the king's side the rest of his days, and let what they felt for each other grow naturally into what it would. Bilbo wanted to, oh how very much he wanted to, but he couldn't, and tried to explain that after kissing his beautiful, stubborn dwarf.

“You don't understand Thorin, it's not that I don't _want_ to stay with you, I do, more than anything, but I _can't_ . Without growing things, Hobbits wane and wither. We need soft green things, sunlight, and good soil to put our roots into. That's why so many hobbits won't leave the shire at all, they are too rooted down where they are. Much as I love you, my roots can't grow in stone, they aren't strong enough. I have to return to the Shire, at least for awhile to regain the rest of my strength, and figure out what I can do to find a way to put down roots here. I might even need to go back under the hill to my relations for a time. I will leave you with some elderberry wine, drink it only on the night of Midsummer in toast to me after you light a nine wood fire and call my name, my _real name_ , and I'll hear you wherever I am.”

Bilbo kissed him deeply, tangling fingers into Thorin's hair, then whispered his true fae name in Thorin's ear, who shivered with the power of it. “I love you Thorin, never think I don't.”

Bilbo turned towards the Shire at the start of Autumn with the other hobbits, and promised to write and visit. It was just becoming winter when they made it to Rivendell, and were invited to stay until Spring. The hobbits very gratefully accepted and Bilbo stuffed himself full of food and then buried himself deep as he could between two little tributaries, so he could be near the powerful healing of the water as he slept in deepest rest. As all fae did if they slept in Winter, nothing would wake them until Spring, so the hobbits made themselves at home and all but took over the kitchens, a few determined to put some meat on the elves' bones over the Winter, thinking they were far thinner than was remotely proper.

Bilbo woke with the budding of the trees as the little brooks near him began their gentle flowing song once more. The air was crisp and cool and he was much recovered here in the Last Homely House. Lord Elrond was right that it was a good place to heal. It was a pity that Erebor was nothing like Rivendell. There was so much water and green life here, and magic, that even though it wasn’t fae magic, it was good magic all the same. He could have set his roots down quite easily in Rivendell and flourished just fine, but Erebor was another matter. When the roads were clear and dry they again set off for home, with gratitude and blessings to every member of Elrond's house. And if Bilbo thought their Ranger guide named Estel looked somewhat familiar and had the kiss of a fae on his brow, Bilbo made no mention of it, for it wasn't of consequence.

Their return to the Shire was a rather joyous affair, they arrived on somebody's birthday (which really wasn't at all unusual considering how many hobbits there were) and Bilbo received a kiss on the cheek from Miranda Hornblower as his birthday gift from her. His smial was as tidy as ever, though several things were no longer in the exact places he had left them. Bilbo took a week setting everything back to rights and settling in properly. He replied to his post, he sent letters to his friends in Erebor, and Rivendell, Beorn, and even the Mirkwood elves. He updated his will, which took another month, and except for the painting, cut Lobelia and her husband out of it entirely, and the rest of the Sackvilles as well, who had undoubtedly encouraged them in their scheming. Otherwise he spent his time either hoarding stores for next winter or pondering an answer to his problem. But nothing ever came to him.

When Midsummer again came around, he had decided he needed to ask someone far stronger and wiser than he. From midnight the day before the party started, every branch of the Party Tree was filled with lights and charms, a bonfire was set up, the tables were groaning with the amount of food and drink upon them, and The Archways, one to go in and one to come out of, were covered in ivy and honeysuckle were set up in just the right spot.

They would open at twilight, thrice: dawn of midsummer, dusk of midsummer, and dawn the day after. Giving him three opportunities to walk through before he would have to stay there for a year. He could use the Unseelie ways if he truly got trapped and was desperate, but it was not a course he would willingly take if he had any other choice. He was hoping it was enough time.

Fae time was much MUCH different than mortal time, it passed much quicker. What would happen from one sunrise to the next in the Shire would take over a year in the fairy realms, a year here was more than three and a half centuries there. And it evened out to about one year per day. It's why to mortals, fae creatures seemed to have such terrible memories and why fae children seemed so rare. It was also why mortal men could get so distracted they never returned, they thought they had become immortal and ageless, which was not true, they just aged as if they were still in the mortal realm.

If you got pregnant in the fae realms, but were still a hobbit, you would carry the child nearly three centuries if you stayed the year, for it grew no faster than any other mortal child. He had no idea why anyone would do such a thing, but many mothers swore by the practice, saying the changes were so slight and gradual, they could actually adjust to things and didn't end up getting morning sickness or backaches, or tire as easily. Not to mention three centuries of fae food had a lot of magic in it, and it apparently made the birthing easier, and the babies healthier and longer lived. Nearly every shire mother did it at least once, usually for her first. Belladonna had actually birthed him in the fae realms, and he'd been nine months old when she'd walked back out with him and Bungo at Midsummer.

The singing and dancing and feasting was a welcome thing, and at the first hints of pre-dawn twilight the archway glowed and spilled light from it as if it were the outer entrance to a great party within, which of course it was. Hobbits began coming through, some were singing and half drunk, there were hobbit lasses with showing bellies or small babes in their arms, and young children whose parents were remaining in the fae lands, at least for now, but were allowing their children to visit the Shire for the night. All joined the party, while some who had already been in attendance went through to the other realm.

Bilbo let the first wave of revelers pass before he took stock to make sure that he had everything, and then went through himself. He had his pack which bore not only supplies but also gifts, his walking stick, was wearing his mail shirt under his clothes, and even had Sting on his hip. The Fairy Realms might be open and welcome to him and his kin, but that didn't even remotely mean that they were in any way _safe_.

He hadn't been there since he was a child, but everything was as unchanging as it ever was here in the in-between places of eternal twilight. The Seelie courts were merry and gay, and filled with light and laughter. He would have to wait until the first party concluded, Midsummer revels were no time for anything even resembling _business_.

That was fine with him, as it allowed him to socialize with people he hadn't seen in an age, including his parents, whose now fully fae aspects didn't remember him as their son, since their mortal selves and memories were long since dust, and they had been here well over six and a half thousand years by now, but they still recognized him as kin, and wished him no true harm. He visited the market where he traded recipes, stories, and songs, in exchange for charms, blessings, and the deadliest of curses, since they had come in far handier than he had ever put stock in before his journey.

It was a month later in fae time, when the party had finished and the last of the hangovers had passed, and the Crown again were taking petitions, that’s when Bilbo entered a plea to the courts. It was another three months before he was called, for royalty can never be rushed, the Fae rulers even more so than most. When Bilbo was finally called, it was to the Faerie Queen herself that he bowed most respectfully.

“Your Majesty.”

“Bilbo Baggins, I remember your mother, the blood ran strong and hot in her veins, all passion and mischief and her feet carried her wherever the wind blew. It's a wonder she grew roots at all. You hold much of her in you, though your fire burns lower.”

“Lower but just as hot your Majesty. Here, I've a gift for you from the other lands. It is made from a thread taken from every king I met on my recent journey. There's one from the favorite robe of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and one from his ward Estel, a not yet crowned king of Men. One from the robe of Thranduil, king of the Greenwood Realm, and one from the Goblin King under the Misty Mountains, another from the newly crowned Bard, King of Dale, one from Beorn of the skin changers, one from the Orc King Azog the Defiler, and finally one from King Thorin of Erebor. Sadly, The Great Eagles do not have a thread that I could have taken, though I believe my mother once gifted you one of their feathers.”

The ornament of threads was woven into a delicate, multi-hued lace work flower, the center of which was held together with spider silk he had found caught on his jacket from somewhere in Mirkwood. In the center was a teardrop ruby the color of blood. To protect it, the flower had outer petals made of thin sheets of pure gold that he had peeled off one of the pillars in the hall of kings after Smaug had escaped. The Faerie Queen was enchanted.

“You give me your journey of perils and yet show your cleverness as well. You are well named, Burglar Bilbo Baggins. Your gift pleases us, what is it that you wish to petition the court for?”

“I seek the answer to a riddle I cannot solve myself. ' _What makes stone and ashes turn to soil, turns grey rock to green earth, brings warmth and light from the cold darkness, and changes death into life renewed?_ ' I had at first thought the answer was 'Spring' but I was wrong, and I cannot go back until I have the answer, or I will surely perish from heartsickness. If you give me the answer oh great Queen, I shall give to you my first infant laugh, my first touch of green grass, and my first hair to fall. For that far off Mountain has become the very breath in my lungs, and the blood in my veins, the thoughts of my mind, and the love of my heart, but to live there would be death for me and my kind.”

The Faerie Queen smiled, and it was a smile that could charm or cut, something as sharp as she was. “'Spring' is the solution, not the answer. To bring real 'Spring' to your mountain, you must fetch some things for me and bring them back here, and I will cast the spell.”

A list appeared magically in front of him, along with a small wooden chest. Bilbo took it and bowed. “I thank you, Your Majesty.” Extra questions wouldn't help him now, and would only try her patience. Once back in his room he penned a few notes on what the objects might be. A few of them he knew the answer to, some made no sense, and a few he knew would be perilous to obtain.

 

**A piece of Eternal Life the moment before it dies-** _?_  
**A piece of Death's remains-**   _Ashes? Bones?_  
**A piece of Eternal Life reborn-** _?_  
**The seeds of life after being brought together-** _is that a specific kind of seeds, or will any suffice?_  
**The Kiss of Spring-** _?_  
**Queen’s Jelly-** _?_  
**The Draught of Life-** _The Waters of Life. Ouch._  
**The May Queen's crown-** _Hawthorn blossoms_  
**Baby’s breath-** _easy enough_  
**Noble Leaf-** _Kingsfoil/Athelas_  
**The beard of the oldest man in the forest-** _most likely tree moss from Old Man Willow_  
**A scale from the dragon you helped fell-** _Self Explanatory_  


He decided to set out for what passed for morning in a realm where it was constantly twilight. For the items he did know, most would be easy to find, but some would not be so easy to collect. It was good he was here, because though he was in the land of faerie, he was still on the borders, the in between places, which meant he was still in the Shire, but it was more than the Shire, and the Faerie Queen, like a hobbit, would not wish to leave their realm for long, let alone send someone away from the same comfortable places, so everything he needed was somehow close by, even though Smaug had fallen half a world away.

He decided that the plants would be the easiest things to fetch first. Athelas, and baby's breath were the first, each bottled separately and placed into the satchel he had been given. Hawthorne blossoms were a lot trickier to find, seeing as it was summer, not spring, and they should have already fallen. It took weeks but he finally came across a tree which still had a blooming branch. 

It was no sooner in his satchel when he then set off in earnest to reach the Old Forest. 'All paths lead to Old Man Willow' he had been cautioned ever since he was a fauntling, and it was true. The Old Forest was dangerous and enchanted, and Old Man Willow the most vicious thing in it. It was said he was the oldest living tree in the world, and angry about everything. He was just glad the dwarves had listened to him and Gandalf when he made the Company ride a certain way through the barrow downs even though the path said otherwise. 'All paths lead to Old Man Willow', and he kept this in mind as he deliberately stepped onto a path. It didn't take long, he could see the giant willow on the edge of a wide river bank up ahead, so there were not just one, but TWO very dangerous things to hobbits. Wonderful.

He did what he always did while trying to figure out what to do, he sang a little song as he sat there, deciding how best to go about getting a bit of the long hanging moss near the crest of the branches without getting himself killed.

 

**_“There's an Old Man in the woods,_ **

**_with his branches big and strong._ **

**_An Old Man in the woods,_ **

**_and his roots grow deep and long._ **

**_His hair is mossy green,_ **

**_skin the wrinkliest you've seen._ **

**_The Old Man in the woods,_ **

**_by the Withywindle stream._ **

 

**_Beware all thy hobbit loves,_ **

**_with your merry walking songs!_ **

**_Beware all elven ones_ **

**_with your days forever long!_ **

**_Beware you dwarves so brave_ **

**_with your axes always raised!_ **

**_And beware all men's sons_ **

**_with your scythes and saws and blades!_ **

 

**_There's an Old Man in the woods,_ **

**_he's the surliest you'll meet!_ **

**_An Old Man in the woods,_ **

**_so pray you watch your feet!_ **

**_He'll grab and drag you down,_ **

**_then happily see you drowned._ **

**_The Old Man in the woods,_ **

**_near the blighted barrow downs._ **

 

**_There's an Old Man in the woods,_ **

**_and we call him Will 'O Fell._ **

**_An Old Man in the woods,_ **

**_pray you do not tarry there._ **

**_All earth paths lead to him,_ **

**_and then once you've wandered in,_ **

**_nothing more can save you,_ **

**_you'll not wander back again.”_ **

 

He was debating climbing another tree very near the one he needed, and hoping to reach the moss from there. He knew the roots were dangerous, but there were no tales about the branches or vines being able to come to life. He had just set foot back on the path, when a huge hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped and shouted in surprise.

“Ho there friend, you'll not want to be going that way, that's the very tree you were singing of.”

“Wh-who on earth are you?” Was the only thing Bilbo could think to say. There was what appeared to be a rather absurd looking, ruddy faced fellow with a very full bushy beard and a bright smile. His coat was bright blue, the same as his eyes, and he wore yellow boots that came up past his knees. Bilbo at first thought that he was a dwarf, because he was too tall for a hobbit, and extremely short for a man, but looking closer, he had a man's face and hands. No self respecting dwarf he knew would ever have clothes and boots like that, supple leather with neither hard toes or steel caps, and loose cloth, without a hint of even leather armor or mail anywhere, not to mention entirely lacking ornaments and metal save for the ring of the brown belt around his waist. He was definitely not a dwarf.

“Tom Bombadil I am, who are you? You have a sort of habbit smell about you.”

“I think you mean 'hobbit', and yes, I am one. My name is Bilbo Baggins.”

“Hobbit, yes that's it! You know better than to go near Old Man Willow, so why were you?”

“I'm afraid I need some of the moss that grows up his branches, and his alone.”

“Oh! Well, best let me fetch it then, else you'll end up in a world of trouble.”

The man walked straight over to the tree, singing a little tune that sounded very much like birdsong, and the branches bent down and he plucked a handful of moss without the slightest bit of trouble, and walked back over and handed it to Bilbo.

“There you are. Come now, let's move on before he notices you, he'll be in a mood for a month that he didn't get to drown you otherwise.”

“Thank you very much Sir. This saved me quite the hardship.”

“No trouble no trouble. Come now, Goldberry will have tea, and you hobbits were fond if I recall. It's been awhile since we've had company.”

Bilbo had heard stories about Tom Bombadil, though he never had met him personally until now, most of his Buckland relations were quite fond of visiting him. Tom ended up having a tiny cottage out in the woods with his wife Goldberry. There was a little stream flowing nearby and one of the most lovely gardens he had ever seen in his life. Goldberry herself was… well whatever she was, she was more fae than human, but at the same time not fae at all, she was something else, something more… elemental. Their home both existed in the fae realm and the mortal world at the same time, but Bilbo could also tell that it connected to other places that he could not name, or barely even perceive.

Tea was a very pleasant experience all around, the food and the company was quite fine as well, and when the question eventually arose as to what all he was doing that needed moss from such a deadly tree, he showed the list to the couple, in hopes perchance that they might know what some of the other items might be. Queens Jelly, also known as Royal Jelly, turned out to be something that bees produced besides honey, and the couple had a large hive, and happily shared with him. Tom also clipped a lock of his own beard saying that it could be interpreted that he was the one mentioned in the list and it was better to be safe than sorry, and Goldberry both kissed his cheek, as well as the Hawthorne blossoms and checked off “The Kiss of Spring” from his list. All in all it was an extremely productive visit, and he made a couple of new friends.

Bilbo was wandering back towards the place he was staying for the evening, when he came to an open glade ringed with poplars and as he walked through the glade he heard his name on the breeze, his fae name, and looked up sharply. Ahead of him on the path there was a glow as if from a doorway, but that was strange, the only doorways were supposed to be the ones set up near the market that led to the party tree… Upon closer inspection he could see that his dwarves had actually set it up, though it would be very dangerous if they hadn’t done it properly, which they couldn’t have, since who would have told them how? Certainly not a hobbit, they guarded their secrets closely. With what they had done, any fae who saw the portal could come through, it had only appeared so near to him because Thorin had called his name. He grabbed some nearby ivy and formed a ring around the door, then cast a blood ward on his side just so his fool headed dwarves wouldn’t find themselves whisked off to the fae lands against their wills, before he stepped through the gate, much to the surprise of the assembly on the other side. The sun had just set behind the mountain, and the sky was just fading from its brilliant flame colors.

“I’m going to kill the lot of you for being so incredibly reckless! I said to drink the wine, light the fire, and call my name so I could hear it, not open a doorway without the adequate protections! I don’t even know how you manag-” all his other protestations were cut off as Thorin rushed forward, pulled him close, and kissed him soundly. Bilbo couldn’t help himself, he had missed his dwarf just as much and wrapped his arms around Thorin’s shoulders, who took that as permission to actually lift Bilbo off of his feet and spin him around until Bilbo broke the kiss and laughed. When he was set back down he was hugged by his other dwarves, and that’s when he saw Lord Elrond hanging back from the others, crowned in rowan, thyme, primrose, and ivy, wearing an ivy mask, and finally also noticed that the others were wearing the crowns as well. Their masks were made of ivy leaves and primrose blossoms formed from silver, copper, and gold, with green silk ribbons holding them on.

Lord Elrond had obviously instructed them in the proper rites, for the fairy ring was perfectly formed, the lanterns were lit, the feast was set, and the fire was burning brightly. The protections had been laid most carefully, and since he had set those same protections for the fae side before he had come through, he instructed them to pick up the feast tables and follow him into the fae realm, after kissing each one’s brow to place them under his protection. He wanted to spend as much time with them as possible, and that was easier to do in the fae realms.

Time might pass much faster in the realm of fae, but open gateways were their own creature, since they had to connect the two places. The protected areas they existed in were faster than the mortal realm, but slower than the normal fae realm. Bilbo protected the entire glade, just to be sure, then he ushered them all into the glade, Lord Elrond bringing up the rear, and seeming unsurprised at finding himself in an entirely different realm. They set up the party and lit a good fire there in the middle as well to keep away the unsavory sorts, before making merry with all manner of instruments and singing, dancing joyfully, feasting and drinking for days, maybe even weeks, and sending for more food and drink to be brought to the door whenever it ran low. When they all finally wore out, Bilbo tapped into the small amount of powers he possessed in this realm and formed sheltered bowers of ivy with thick soft pallets of moss for his friends to rest on. He knew better than to sleep while mortals were sleeping in the realm, else they would never return, and he would never wish them trapped here.

He spoke with Lord Elrond for hours while the others slept, catching up with the elf on all the goings on since he had left, and shared with him the list of items he needed to acquire before he could think about returning. The wizened elf lord was quite unsurprised by Bilbo’s list, in fact it was almost like he had seen its like before, and was able to provide some clues.

“A Dragon and Phoenix spell. Why does it somehow not surprise me that you are meddling with extremely powerful magics?”

“I’m not, I'm merely gathering the ingredients for the Faerie Queen. She’s performing the spell. Do you know what some of them are?”

“Yes, I am familiar with this spell, and thought it had long since passed out of this world… it seems I was right, though I’m not sure I find it comforting to know it now resides in the Realm of the Fae. These first few are all in reference to the same creature, a phoenix, and it seems to be wanting one of each of its parts. A feather right before it dies, which means probably on fire, the ashes after it burns to death, and then the eggshell from when it regenerates. The full cycle of death and rebirth. Though I have no idea where you might find one of them, I have not heard of one being spotted in Arda in the last ten thousand years. As for the seed of life... well, I’m sure you can figure that one out all on your own if you give it some true thought. However I do know how to find one item on that list right now. The men of the lake and the ones who have begun to rebuild Dale have gifted the dragon’s hide to the Dwarves. We are right outside the gates of Erebor, I will go and fetch it for you. Why don’t you spend some time with the ones you love, I will return soon.”

“Thank you Lord Elrond. Not just for that, but for helping me to see them, I have missed them greatly.”

“No more than they have missed you. I shall return shortly.”

After the Elf Lord had left Bilbo was very bold and went to Thorin’s bower. The dwarf was not fully sleeping, merely resting lightly. When he caught sight of Bilbo, the dwarf king smiled widely and opened his arms to his hobbit. Bilbo was apparently helpless in denying his dwarf anything, and went easily to his embrace. Kissing Thorin never grew old, it felt as if it was something he could do indefinitely, but he did have fae in his blood, and fairies were always quite bold. Thorin’s eyes flew wide as Bilbo rolled the king over onto his back and straddled the dwarf king's thighs, grinding most suggestively.

“And here I thought you would be reticent.” Thorin chuckled lightly, letting his hands stroke up Bilbo's thighs and take a playful grab of Bilbo’s bottom to hold him steady while thrusting up, just enough to make Bilbo gasp.

“The fae are never reticent. We love doing anything that is pleasurable, without limit, or care of consequence. When we see something we like or want, we _take it._ And right now, I want you. I want you to bed me the way you have been wanting to, without reserve or reservation, or fear that I might not want the same. My blood has been burning for you ever since I left, and I am not about to let this unexpected opportunity pass me by, it isn’t in my nature.”

Thorin took his words to heart and didn’t hold back in the slightest. It was hot and passionate between them and Bilbo was an extremely enthusiastic participant. It may have been days or even weeks they stayed there, as they went again and again, and their strength never lagged. Bilbo was practically glowing by the time he growled playfully into Thorin’s ear with a little nip. “You fill me over and over again as though I were a maiden you could sow your seed into and have it bear you a child, and fuck me with the desperate passion of a lover long missed. Is this the legendary stamina of the dwarves then? Lucky me.”

Thorin rolling him onto his back, setting Bilbo’s ankles onto his shoulder, and pulling out only to press his hardness for the final time between Bilbo’s thighs, so that he could finish with sharp, brutal thrusts, the hardness of his cock thrusting against Bilbo’s own and getting to watch his cum leave glistening streaks on Bilbo’s belly, chest, and cock, Bilbo finishing only a moment later and arching as he came, not only managing to mark his own belly and chest, but even hit his own cheek with it, and not caring one whit besides getting to see the dark look of hunger in Thorin’s eyes before the dwarf parted his legs and settled between them, first licking up the drop on Bilbo’s cheek with a desperate moan, before kissing him and leaving not an inch of their bodies not touching each other. It was messy and lovely and Bilbo was more than satisfied with his dwarven lover.

Thorin eventually rolled to the side, exhausted, and lightly dozed while cuddling Bilbo after they had kissed for several minutes. But finally Bilbo fetched his handkerchief from out of his pocket and wiped up the mess of their spilled seed on their chests and bellies as best he could. It was only as he was about to drop it somewhere hidden until the others left, that he realized what he held. Another item on the list, the seeds of life brought together. He blushed hard at that, but it absolutely made sense, and so, mortified though he was to eventually have to present such a thing to a Queen, he carefully folded and rolled up the handkerchief and sealed it up inside yet another phial. He fetched enough water to wash up with before he got dressed, and made sure Thorin’s modesty was spared with both low hanging ivy and his own clothes nearby, then kept watch while his dwarves continued to sleep.

When the company finally woke again several days later, Bilbo had replenished the food on the table again, and had even lured a deer near enough to the fae door that he was able to kill it and bring it through, where it was now roasting over a deep pit fire. He was forced to keep reminding himself that it wouldn’t be safe for them to eat food of this realm, even though the temptation to let them sample the true wonders avaliable to them was growing stronger. The feasting renewed again, and drink, laughter, and merriment was all around him.

Bilbo and Thorin danced together, close and seductive, and oh that was a bad idea. It must have passed midnight, for the darker aspects of his nature grew stronger and stronger with every passing moment. The stirrings in his blood to just _keep_ Thorin here, teasingly ease off his mask and the protective crown in another bout of passionate lovemaking, draw him outside the protections of the flames and the circle of ivy, where the others would not dare to venture, have him drink the fae wine and taste the fae food until any other food and drink would never sate the dwarf again, and he forgot the others, until he was Bilbo’s alone to enjoy for thousands upon thousands of years, happy and safe from the world. He wouldn’t have to bring Spring somewhere if he just _kept_ the whole reason he wanted it in the first place right here with him...

It was at that moment there was the sound of tack and bridle, and the steady sound of hooves coming through the doorway, which broke Bilbo away from his thoughts and likely spared Thorin for the moment. Lord Elrond had returned, a scale nearly as large as Bilbo himself carried on the back of a familiar and patiently obliging pony. One look at him and Elrond grew a bit more guarded.

“Hello Bilbo Baggins. I’ve brought what you needed. We’re grateful for your continued protection and hospitality.”

That sparked a recognition through him and he saw the marks he himself had bestowed upon them all, to do them no harm, to not keep them there, to protect them and only enjoy their company before sending them home. A vow he had silently made to each as he bestowed the kiss, and he could not break the vow. He winced, feeling the cold iron of the bracelet Lord Elrond had around his wrist. The elf lord was far too clever, and though it annoyed him, he was also rather grateful.

“Thank You. It has gone past midnight there, has it not?”

“Close, but not for another quarter hour. Enough time to finish this fine meal and raise another toast in health to our friends before we must depart.”

Bilbo nodded and together they all finished the feast in record time. Lord Elrond stayed near him as the party broke up and the tables were returned to the other side, his friends gradually leaving along with them. Thorin lingered, more than half enchanted and seduced by Bilbo already, and Bilbo _ached_ to keep him. After yet another deep kiss to his dwarf, Lord Elrond drew nearer to them, and Bilbo was forced to pull away.

“Go, you must go, now. It’s gone midnight. You must leave before I break my word and keep you.”

“And what if I want you to keep me?” Thorin purred, kissing Bilbo again and getting his blood up.

“You haven’t the slightest idea of what you are asking or would be getting into-”

“I’d be staying with you, what else would I need to know?”

Bilbo forced himself away. “Soon my love. Soon I will finish my quest and have my answer, and then I can return to you. Until then… wear the crown and mask for the rest of the night and day, else the unkindly ones might find you, and get yourself some iron to wear before you are utterly stolen, you gorgeous fool. Think of me, please think of me, I’ve missed you so.”

One final desperate kiss from his dwarf, and Elrond lay his hand on Thorin’s shoulder, causing Bilbo to leap away in pain, before the Elven lord steered the dwarven king towards the doorway with intent.

“It was good to see you Bilbo Baggins. I wish you well on the rest of your journey.” Lord Elrond said with a polite but firm manner.

Bilbo smiled. “It was good to see you too. Please, look after them for me.”

“I shall.” the Elf Lord said with a slight bow as he ducked back through the doorway, leaving the pony and dragon scale behind, before the doorway was sealed behind him for good.

Alone again, the dark and unseelie thoughts faded, since the object of his desire was no longer in front of him and the desires of the fae are easily distracted to other things. The dwarves were safely beyond his reach, Lord Elrond would undoubtedly force each one of them to carry some iron for the foreseeable future, which honestly was for the best. Either way he had loved getting to see his friends and his Beloved.

The list was nearly done now, just the pieces of Phoenix and the Waters of Life left to go. He had no idea where to even begin looking for a Phoenix, But the Water’s of Life… that he did know the location of, treacherous though it would be to go there. They stemmed from the spring at the top of the highest peak in the realm of fae, which at the same time resided at one of the lowest points. It was deep DEEP underground, beside a dark chasm that no one could ever measure the true distance of. From the top of the summit flowed the Waters of Life, at the bottom of the falls the water was transformed into the Waters of Memory, which took away all of the drinker’s memories, and as it traveled from that point onward, they changed once again, this time into the River of Death, where to even so much as touch it would kill you. After that the river went over the edge, into the chasm, and no one knew what happened to it after that.

Bilbo set back off towards his dwelling. Three quarters of his time was gone if it was already midnight in the mortal realm, and he still needed to seek another audience with the queen. He had to prepare quickly if he didn't want to remain for a year. He had a quest to finish, a mountain to revive, and a gorgeous and stubborn dwarven king to get back to.

 

 


End file.
